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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24853777">a name on a silver platter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyoop/pseuds/coulsons-hawk'>coulsons-hawk (allyoop)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Don't Go Into The Forest, Fae &amp; Fairies, Fairy Tale Elements, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Short &amp; Sweet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:29:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24853777</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyoop/pseuds/coulsons-hawk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve runs into the forest to escape, and instead gives up his name.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a name on a silver platter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>originally named "the one with the fae" if you've seen it before.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Even with his bad ear he could still the <em> thump-thump-thumps </em> behind him, taunting him with their steadiness in their pursuit. There was a fire in his ribs and he knew he only had a couple minutes of breath left before his lungs felt like sand. He ducked around a familiar corner and skidded against the brick in his momentary lack of focus. <em> You’re over your head this time, Steve </em> . <em> Couldn’t leave well enough alone </em> . The raw scrapes on his knuckles and the purple bruises across his skin were bloody reminders to keep from picking fights he knew he couldn’t win. But his heart, even in its irregular, strained rhythm, beat out a sound of approval. Steve couldn’t let those bullies win: not now and not ever. <em> You give them an inch and they think they rule you forever. </em></p><p>He swore and bit his tongue trying to catch himself from tripping once again. He was rapidly running out of road and steam. He didn’t want to turn tail, but those guys had more brawny friends than he thought. And then he had started to panic when he saw a car pull up and block the end of the alleyway; a threat dressed in a hull of black metal. With a rude gesture he had sprinted off the other direction, hoping maybe to split up the group, give himself a better chance to fight back. With the street blocked, he didn’t see he had much choice but to plow through the back of the neighborhood, jumping the fences until he got towards the trees. He tripped and pushed his way through the brush and brambles, hoping those bullies were a little more afraid of the woods than he was. With a quick prayer to whomever may be listening, Steve let the familiar path run out and the untrod green begin beneath his feet, ignoring the ringing warning bells in his mind.</p><p>It may have been minutes or hours or days by the time his legs buckled and his body shook from the effort of his run. He felt like some creature born running who couldn’t remember how to stand still. Steve grabbed the nearest tree and slumped ungracefully across its roots. Every bit of his insides felt rubbed raw by the chilly forest air. He kept gasping but no air seemed to stay in his empty lungs. With great effort he tried to pat down all his pockets but he had forgotten his inhaler at home.</p><p>“<em>Stupid!” </em> He coughed out.</p><p>Steve propped himself up to look around. He could have sworn he heard a response, some hum that sounded too loud for an insect and too quiet to be his own rattling chest. The forest was more blue than green this far in. Without realizing he had run straight into the old heart, where the trees grew more moss than leaves and every open patch was a fairy ring. He tried to sit up but his knees were too shaky for any more movement, despite the fear that threatened to make him run again. He had heard stories, like every child has, about the witches and fae of the forest who loved nothing more than to catch wayward children and gobble them up. He knew most were silly warnings, the things you tell kids to keep them from wandering off, but it <em> was </em> All Hallow’s Eve and the edge of the forest always seemed darker on an evening like tonight.</p><p>Steve wished the moon was less yellow and dim; he couldn’t see farther than a few feet in front of him and he wondered how he was ever going to retrace his steps back home. His head knocked against the tree with a resigned sigh and stubborn tears threatened their presence in his eyes.</p><p>“<em>Don’t- </em>“</p><p>His eyes popped open. There was no way he imagined that time; it was too clear, too close.</p><p>“Hello?” He scrambled to his feet, leaning heavily against the trunk. “Someone there?”</p><p>“No one here.”</p><p>“You’re kinda defeating the purpose of hiding if you keep responding.” He peered around the tree, thinking maybe one of the bullies had followed him and was staying just out of sight.</p><p>“You can’t hear me.” The voice was closer this time and Steve circled the trunk looking everywhere for the body behind the voice.</p><p>“Of course I can hear you. I’m not just talking to myself here.”</p><p>“You <em> can </em> hear me!”</p><p>Two things happened very suddenly: a flash of silver dropped from above Steve’s vision, like a blinding glint from a mirror in the sun, and he stumbled back from the brightness. And secondly a cold hand grabbed his arm in an effort to catch him and then let him go just as abruptly, like it was surprised at the contact. Steve landed hard on his butt for the second time that evening and a string of swears flew from his mouth, cursing his luck and his second set of bruises.</p><p>“Angry.”</p><p>He squinted and tried to see the speaker in the blue-black light. There was nothing there, but it was such a discernible absence of <em> anything </em> that made the outline of a figure visible. Where there should have been trees and background, there was a shadow that flared silver the harder he tried to look.</p><p>“You’re angry.”</p><p>“Of course I’m angry; I fell on my ass ‘cause you couldn’t be bothered to help me.” He held a hand over his eyes, trying to block the strange light that obscured the figure.</p><p>“Don’t look at me straight; look sideways.”</p><p>“What? How do I-“</p><p>“Don’t think, don’t <em> dare </em> think. Look at me like the background that’s always in the blur of your edges; look for me like you’re not trying to <em> see </em>.”</p><p>Steve glanced down, trying not to think about how utterly reckless he was being, because only one thing in a forest would ever say <em> that </em>. He slowly let his eyes drift up, looking at everything except what he wanted, letting his vision trace specks of pollen in the moon beams until specks became a cloud became a cloak became the tall figure standing before him.</p><p>“<em>Oh. </em>” It slipped from his lips with his breath as the stranger before him stole it. He wasn’t human, but Steve didn’t know anything for sure beyond that. There was a glow that started in the figure’s left arm, like he had dipped his hand in starlight and it had never dripped off. The silver ran in twists and veins through his whole left side and faded away as it reached the right. He couldn’t help but think of the moon; with a side always cast in what the earth called eternal darkness.</p><p>“You are angry.”</p><p>“Not anymore.” He blurted. “I mean- I can <em> see </em> you. Whatever –whoever? <em> - </em> you are.”</p><p>“He is acceptable.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“’<em>He’ </em> is acceptable.”</p><p>“Oh! You’re a he. I’m a Steve.” He almost offered his hand to shake before realizing how silly that was. “I mean, I’m Steve. Do you have a name?”</p><p>The silver seemed to flicker and Steve thought he saw a frown cross the being’s face.</p><p>“Name? We’ve had many names, as a whole. Buckwood Hollow is, I think, our current.”</p><p>“I’ll call you Bucky then, if that’s acceptable. Shorter to say.” The awkwardness of sitting while this figure loomed above him finally made Steve push his feet, and despite the protesting creaks in his knees, he pulled himself up to face this Bucky. He was taller, but most were compared to Steve, and oddly human in appearance. Steve wondered how much he shaped himself to fit what was expected; whether Bucky only reflected what Steve’s imagination wanted. Other than the silver that seemed to form the majority of his left side, Bucky wouldn’t have looked out of place from Steve’s art books. All sharp cheeks and collarbone, soft skin with a pastel flush, and hair in watercolor rivulets longer than Steve’s ever seen on a guy. He was beautiful and he was obviously <em> achingly </em> faerie.</p><p>And Steve had freely given him his name.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Originally written October 2014 as a tumblr halloween prompt.</p><p>Thought it would be fun to cross-post here (finally) :)</p><p>Bless you reader for any comments, kudos, and most importantly, putting up with my authorial nonsense. Love y'all.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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